Redemption
by sevenofmine
Summary: When Irene Adler returns and asks to see Sherlock, John doesn't like his best friend meeting The Woman again and fears that she is not only having a bad influence on the detective but that her flirting attemps might even succeed...
1. Return

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„Sherlock, she is not good for you," John argued and leaned back in the armchair.

The detective sat motionless in front of the laptop before he continued typing an article for his website.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I am always listening," Sherlock answered silently.

"Then what have I just said?"

"That I shouldn't meet her tonight."

"Not exactly."

"But you intended to tell me that. What do you think she'll do? Harm me? She's 'in love with me'," he said, pronouncing the last words as if they were alien to him.

"And still she betrayed you. She was working for Moriarty, she faked her death and even fooled you," John tried again.

"She didn't _fool _me," Sherlock accented. He shut down the laptop and turned to John. "I helped her to get out alive."

"I know. She's in love with you and she's been alluring you from the very beginning and I think she has succeeded."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Why are you then doing what she wants you to do? Don't meet her."

"What, are you jealous?" Sherlock teased him while he stood up.

"No, I'm worried," John finally admitted.

That surprised Sherlock, but then he took his coat and his scarf. "I'm going to listen to her. Whatever she wants, it's probably important or she wouldn't have risked to return to London, would she?"

"You don't know the way she's thinking," John muttered disappointed but giving up.

"Neither do you," the detective said and left the flat without another word.

* * *

"You took your time," were the first words with which Irene Adler greeted him.

"I think my brother is caring too much about me these days."

"How comes?"

"I think some people were trying to kill me," Sherlock answered sarcastically. At least she wasn't naked this time, he thought. Although her clothing could hardly be described as 'fully dressed'.

"Do you think they stopped?"

"I haven't been lured into a swimming pool with dynamite tied upon my best friend, nor have I been threatened by a Chinese criminal gang, nor have I encountered a desperate man sticking at nothing for hiding an unethical experiment. I think I'm having quite a relaxing life," he answered quickly while scanning her body. She had been travelling for a long time and tried to hide that her clothes were old and often washed. Probably her death-life hadn't been going as all expected. "Your appearance however brings me to the conclusion that someone else has found out about your latest survival. Probably someone from your past who has detected you coincidentally or after a long search but more likely is someone I have met so far or you wouldn't be here to warn me."

"Do I have to look surprised now that you figured out why I am here?" she answered with an uncertain smile.

"No, you already do."

She sighed heavily before she finally came closer. Her skin looked pale in the white moonlight that was shining through the broken windows of the abandoned factory. "He's back."

"Who is?"

"Moriarty."

"And he returned to kill you and you're asking me now for help to survive. What shall I do, hide you under my bed?" Sherlock answered ironically and emotionless. But inside, he was already reviewing the possibility of faking Moriarty's death. He has seen him taking his own life. It had looked like a fast decision but of course he couldn't exclude the possibility that it had been planned for a very long time.

"I don't think that's necessary," she answered in a high-pitchy voice.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because I am already dead," Irene responded and smiled. Before he could react –or even raise an eyebrow – she bent forward and pressed her think lips on his mouth. He want to back up but she pulled his head toward hers. When she stopped, he looked at her in full surprise, then opened his mouth for protesting but he was too late. In the exact moment he watched her eyes going empty and dark and only then he realized that she was already falling toward him. He caught her and helped her lying down on the ground.

"Miss Adler," he muttered not understanding when her hand touched her cheek.

"He's not coming to kill you," she whispered into his ear before her head dropped backward and hit the cold stone floor.

"No", Sherlock screamed silently and closed her eyes. Realizing what he did he stumbled backward. Was he really feeling something toward her. Was he emotionally compromised? Hasn't he always tried to stay away from close relationships because they could only bring hurt and grief? And wasn't this exactly what he was feeling right now? "Oh, Moriarty, you're good," he said out loud and left the darkened place without turning back.

His archenemy was back, so far he was sure. And he was testing him again. If he was weak enough to fall for that. If he was weak enough to feel – even for a woman like Irene. Sherlock wasn't even sure himself what she had done to him but whatever it was, he would never do such a mistake ever again. Because when he showed such weaknesses, people started dying. And they'd never stop.

Telling himself that Irene was his only and last mistake, he walked out of the dark plant, not knowing that Irene wasn't even the one who he was really caring for…

**What do you think about it? Is it worth a continuation?**


	2. In a Darkened Swimming pool

"What did she want?" John asked when Sherlock came back late this evening.

"She talked," he said and sat down his friend's laptop to check the latest updates on his website.

"About what?"

"Moriarty."

"He's dead."

"She believes not."

"And you believe her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she died telling me. I called Lestrade, he has probably found the crime scene by now."

"My God, Sherlock," John muttered stunned. Did he have any feelings. "What are we going to do now? If Moriarty faked his death, he's probably after you right now."

"He is, but not to kill me. That's what The Woman said," Sherlock answered and shut off the computer. "Good night, John," he said and left to his bed room. Shaking his head, Watson went to sleep as well.

But as soon as Sherlock was sure that his friend was sleeping, he got dressed again and sneaked out of the flat, not stepping on the stair which made this loud noise. He walked out and tore his scarf tighter. Where was he supposed to go? What did Moriarty expect from him? Go to the place they met last, or the place they met first.

Sherlock decided for the latter and started walking to the swimming pool. He wasn't surprised when he noticed that it wasn't locked and he entered the big hall with the pool itself. He waited a few minutes and already thought that he was at the wrong place.

"Sherlock…how good we meet again," a voice behind him said and he turned around.

"How?" he asked suspiciously.

"How I faked my death? How did you fake yours?"

"That was easy with the right help. But you shot into your own head, in front of me."

"A man only sees, what a man wants to see. Don't feel insulted that I tricked you, Sherlock. But you wished me dead so much," his greatest archenemy said and came closer. He was a few inches taller than Moriarty and looked down on him. What stopped him from killing him right now?

"What do you want?" the detective wanted to know.

"We both died, we both resurrected. It's boring, isn't it?"

"I could kill you now, would it still be boring?"

Moriarty smiled shortly. "Wouldn't it be so much greater if we worked together. We wouldn't fight against each other anymore, we wouldn't die."

"Other people would die…but that's what people do, isn't it?"

"You already understand me, Sherlock. And you're the only one who does. So tell me, how do you feel about me?" he asked and even came closer to his face, standing on his tiptoes right now.

"I…don't know," Sherlock admitted. His nemesis was right. They were alone, nobody could understand them. Only Moriarty really understood playing and challenging Sherlock. And being on the side of the angels, as he had paraphrased it, it was so boring…

Without hesitating now, Moriarty bent forward and pulled Sherlock's head closer to his until their lips touched. Sherlock didn't try to get away. He hasn't done this in ages, and it felt so good. He walked forward, still his mouth nearly eating Moriarty's and finally pushed him against the wall.

"How do we explain anybody?" Moriarty asked when he could breathe again.

"We don't," Sherlock whispered into his ear and arm in arm, still kissing, they walked out of the swimming pool and into a dark, undiscovered future…

**If you don't like it, you shouldn't have read it. If you find mistakes or have notes to make my story or writing style better, write me a review. If you liked that story, write me a comment as well ;)**


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